


Soon, Splitting

by Soak



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Embarrassment, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Pining, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, doropetra besties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soak/pseuds/Soak
Summary: Ingrid is all too happy to help Dorothea with whatever she needed on their march home from Enbarr. This however spirals into being caught in the crossfire as Petra and Dorothea's emotions spill over--though she comes to realize there's more to it than she thought.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Petra Macneary, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	Soon, Splitting

**Author's Note:**

> Ingrid's such a perfect dork.
> 
> ((I'm so bad at writing spats and fights--please forgive its wonkiness!))

"That girl drives me up a wall, sometimes."

"Who?" Ingrid asked, trying her best to follow Dorothea through the Faerghus camp. The energy had grown the closer they got to Fhirdiad, threatening to break out into a full-blown victory parade on their way back from Enbarr. More people were out and about as they set up for another night in the plains, making it difficult to track her through the hodge-podge alleyways between tents. The large, fold-able cot frame in her arms wasn't making it any easier.

The songstress spun around, holding a jumble of blankets. "Our dear princess from Brigid. Honestly, if she's going to be ruling someday, she could do with a bit more tact." Her face scrunched into a frown before the turned on her heel and pressed onward.

Ingrid sighed. The two former-Black Eagles were inseparable at times, which probably explained why when they did fight, it was more violent than most. "What happened?"

Dorothea shrugged. "She broke one of your lances yesterday, didn't she?"

The cot frame slipped for a moment, nearly teetering into a pair of clerics. "She did, yes. It wasn't her fault though, and we did need some way to get that cart out of the ditch. Honestly, it was pretty smart how she got everyone-"

"She has a damn wyvern she spends half the day doting over." Ingrid could hear her feet stomping into the ground. "That pampered, oversized pigeon could've easily pulled it out if she had just taken a moment to think through her actions. The cart would've been free and you'd have one more pointy stick to your name. People's possessions should be respected, hm?"

Ah. "So is this why we're dragging a whole bed across camp?" Ingrid gasped. "Oh no. Did she get into the mead again?"

Dorothea looked back over her shoulder, rolling her eyes, her mouth twisted in a sardonic grin. "If only. No, it's perhaps worse this time."

The knight's curiosity piqued at this. Nobody within a mile had been spared their legendary, drunken shouting match. And yet, nothing had been heard from the two of them lately. "Well then.. what did she do? Did something catch on fire?"

"I'd rather it did, after the fact." Dorothea stopped at a large, circular tent. She leaned in close as Ingrid caught up, her voice dropping to something cryptic, alluring. "If you're so curious, why don't you help me set this up?"

Ingrid hid her face behind the frame. "Oh. All right." She had only very slowly realized how much she enjoyed the songstress' attention, even if she could only admit it to herself. "A- after you."

Dorothea smirked and pushed through the entrance. 

"Where have you been, Dorothea?" Petra was slumped in a similar bed, the angry bruising along her exposed side beginning to heal. The wounds of Enbarr lingered for some more than others. A large, soft red blanket went up to her waist. "I have not been seeing you all day. We would not have this tent ready if Dedue was not full of kindness." 

Dorothea ignored her. "You can put that down over there, dear. Thank you so much." She gave a wide smile that didn't touch her eyes.

Ingrid felt a cold feeling run down her gut. Whether it was for herself or the storm brewing she didn't know. She turned away and started unfolding the cot on other side of the tent the two shared. Her eyes remained glued on her task, determined not to be caught in the crossfire.

"Is that bedding for yourself? We can be switching, I have much gratitude for allowing me to rest on yours. When this injury is gone, I will be going back to resting on the floor, do not worry."

"Hm? Oh no, darling, you don't need to go back to sleeping in a bedroll anymore. This one's for me--seeing as how that bed is yours now."

A long pause. "I am having confusion. This has always been yours."

"Oh, once upon a time, maybe." Dorothea sighed. "But no, I'm pretty sure it belongs to _you_ now."

Ingrid rose up from setting the cot, wiping her forehead. The syrupy-sweet tone from Dorothea felt like the distant rumble of thunder. She took out her canteen and drank from it, if only to try putting her mind elsewhere.

"I am not- Dorothea, why are you full of odd smiles? You are making me uncomfortable."

"Oh heavens, I'm simply _so sorry_." The songstresses words turned, thick with mockery. " _You're_ uncomfortable now? Well then, imagine how it must feel to walk in on you and Ashe getting handsy-"

Ingrid choked on her water, a huff of air blowing it back in her face as she coughed and sputtered. Her throat burned up as quickly as she did, her mind running wild as she fought for a breath.

"Dorothea!" Petra's hissing was far from her normal bravado.

"-that's my favorite blanket, you know! I've had it since the Academy-"

"He was healing me-"

Ingrid turned around just in time to get walloped in the face as Dorothea threw her blankets at the new bed. She pulled them away, trying to come to terms with all she had just heard.

"Healing you, huh!?" Dorothea waggled her hands at Petra, her eyes daggers. "Did he work his magic fingers on you?"

Petra, more red than Ingrid had ever seen her, nearly hopped out from the plush blanket she sat under. "Yes, he did! Wait-" Her eyes widened, the breath catching in her throat as her understanding of Fódlanese came a moment too late. "No! Forget those words! You are not understand- understanding- Agh!" Her face crunched up in anger, glaring as good as she got. She started doling out a stream of Brigidese that, despite the language barrier, Ingrid could guess at. 

Dorothea's mouth set in a harsh line as the curses kept lashing out. "I can still understand you, you know! You taught me--" a gasp "-- _what was that supposed to mean_?!"

Petra nodded mid-curse, making a gesture with her hands. The Brigid princess grew more aggressive, jabbing viciously at her foe.

The songstress, in an act of supreme bravery, marched right up into the wyvern lord's face. "Fine! I'll say it in your own stupid language!" She began shouting only two words of Brigidese, over and over again.

"Stupid?! You are the one with stupidity, and you are pronouncing it wrong!" Petra gritted her teeth as she sat up further. "For how many mouths you put your tongue in, I would be expecting it to be working better!"

Dorothea let loose a sharp gasp, her jaw going slack. She balled her fists up at her side, teetering on the crucible. Petra set her mouth in a indignant grin, her squinting eyes seeming to goad her on.

As the warlock pulled her hand back in a wide palm, Ingrid pounced. She wrapped her arms around Dorothea, pulling her away just as her slap would've came crashing down.

"That's enough!" she shouted as she began hauling the songstress away. "Get a hold of yourselves, both of you!" Nevertheless, the Adrestian persisted, struggling to give Petra a piece of her mind.

"Me?" Petra shot them a glare. "She is the one who started the hostilities!"

"Oh come on!" Dorothea tried prying Ingrid's arms away to no avail. "This isn't Brigid, Petra! Not everything is so open and communal--you can't just walk all over other people's things!"

"Walk over? The blanket was on the bed!" Petra let loose a long, angry sigh. "I have been telling you, he was casting healing magics on me. That is all that was happening when you arrived."

"Right, of course!" Dorothea laughed, short and shallow. "You totally need someone holding you, whispering in your ear, running their hands under _my_ blanket to do that." She looked over her shoulder. "And you, put me down please!"

"Oh! Uh... fine." Ingrid let her go. She rubbed the warm, itchy sensation that was rising up the back of her neck.

"Do not be mocking me! This injury has been difficult and... and I was _having hope_ you would understand." Petra frowned, though this time it held more than vitriol in it.

Dorothea huffed. Her voice evened out into something more serious. "Oh I do. I know how this song goes--so be honest. Has it always been soft cuddles and some faith spells? It never got... hot and busy, did it?"

Petra opened her mouth to respond, then dropped her eyes to the floor and shut it. She avoided her gaze as the seconds inched by. "You are knowing I do not enjoy lying," was all she could offer.

Dorothea groaned and threw her hands up in the air. "I'm leaving. Thanks a lot." With that, she turned quickly on her heel and vanished outside.

The air grew still. Ingrid began to notice the sounds of the camp outside filter back in, the bustle of marching boots and bird chirps. She stood there, frozen to the floor. Petra pulled her knees up to her chin.

"I am thinking you should be leaving as well."

Ingrid could only offer a sympathetic look and nodded, setting out after Dorothea.

\--

She found her some time later, wandering the outskirts of their camp. The sun was setting deep into the auburn sky as a breeze pushed around the grasses of the Tailtean. The crickets had started to sing, but as night approached the air grew chilly, as Faerghus often did. 

"Dorothea?" Ingrid called out. Her quarry kept mindlessly treading to and fro in the field, deep in thought. "Dorothea?"

"Hm?" Her eyes picked up from the ground and snapped over. She pulled a dark cloak tighter over her shoulders. "Oh, hello dear. Shouldn't you be settling in for the evening?"

Ingrid took a few paces forward. "I... wanted to make sure you were okay."

Dorothea gave her a small, weak smile. "You're sweet. But why should you care so much about me?" She stared back towards the horizon.

"Oh, well..." Ingrid struggled to find a plausible half-truth. She couldn't manage the full one, not yet. 

"I made a terrible mess of that," Dorothea continued, mostly to herself. "You'd figure after having the same fight a dozen times over, I'd have learned a thing or two."

"A dozen?" Ingrid echoed. A couple steps closer. "Does that mean she and Ashe-"

"Oh, goddess no." Another tiny smile. "That's new. Or, rather, she's been talking about him since our academy days, but somehow finally won him over. I never thought that boy would pick up on it, honestly."

"Well, that's good." Ingrid arrived beside her, staring out across the plains as well. "It's not really my area of expertise, but I think they work well together. I'm happy for them." Goddess, every word coming out of her mouth felt stiff and awkward.

"Me too." Dorothea's voice was soft, heart-felt. "I missed almost the whole celebration after Enbarr, she just had to pull me away for hours and gush over it. I've never seen her quite so excited before. Usually I'm the one getting all emotional on her, not the other way around.

"Well, look what happened--everything's back to normal. I just had to overreact and get all dramatic on the poor girl." Dorothea sighed and shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "They're in that wonderful moment at the start, too; it's only normal they fall heads-over-heels a bit, right? It's not every day a crush comes true."

"Right." Ingrid's stomach churned. "She should still respect you and your things, though."

"Oh, she does." She pursed her lips. "At least she tries to, in her own way, and she does so many other things for me that I usually don't mind. Always listening, being positive and helpful whether I want it or not--she's pretty good at getting me out of bad dates, too. Petra just... does things head-on, most of the time."

"She does." Ingrid agreed, feeling very much a bystander. She supposed that might be the best option for now. "For better and for worse. I'm missing a "pointy stick", as you said."

The songstress gave out a rare snort and a chuckle. "Did I?" She turned to look at her, a warm smile pushing all the way to corners of her eyes. "Thank you, Ingrid. I appreciate your company today."

The knight met her gaze, feeling her cheeks tingle as she forced herself to hold it. "Ah- well, happy to be of service!" Oh goddess, she immediately wanted those words back. "So... are you going to apologize? It's all right if you can't forgive her just yet." 

The smile mellowed, and the Adrestian stared back out into the rolling waves of grass. The crickets continued to play. "Oh, I will. I decided that before I even left our tent. She's... probably the closest thing I have to family, you know. For now."

Ingrid tried searching her face for an answer to that last bit of crypticism, but found nothing. Dorothea shrugged and turned around. "Let's get back, shall we? I could use your muscles for one last thing, dear. If you don't mind."

Of course she didn't.

\--

The spartan wooden tray was uneven, Ingrid discovered, as they neared the tent. The small clay carafe and steaming tin teapot were basic, unadorned, and sliding constantly with each step. A set of wooden cups clacked together endlessly. Still, it was impressive watching the warlock put it all together on a short notice--a suggestion here, a hand on the shoulder there, and suddenly they had a small spread before she knew it.

Dorothea stopped before the entrance, backlit from the torches in the growing night. She fidgeted, stealing a couple looks to the tent flap and then away. Then she stilled, took a deep breath, and drew close to the canvas. "Can I come in?" 

Happy campfire songs lingered in the distance, interspersed with shouting and laughter. Someone was playing a lute, and although she was horrid with music, Ingrid found it to be charming, if clumsy. It was a poor backdrop for the moment, though, she figured.

"If you are wanting to." The voice inside was small, muffled. 

Another deep breath, and then she entered. Ingrid followed, cups clacking.

It was dark inside. Footsteps were all she could perceive for a few moments, before fire licked outward from Dorothea's hand and then a pair of oil lanterns lit up on opposite sides of the room.

Petra hadn't moved from the same cot, sitting in a bundle of blankets. Her knees were still pulled up and pressed into her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs. She didn't look up at them as they approached, though Ingrid still trailed a fair ways behind.

Dorothea sat at the foot of the bed, crossing her ankles. She looked over at her friend. "I'm sorry, dear. It really shouldn't have been a problem, and I made it one. A rather big one, unfortunately. I had no right to embarrass you like that."

Petra shook her head, her braided hair swaying behind her. "Do not be apologizing. I am the one with mistakes." She bit at her lip, continuing to stare into the floor.

Dorothea flicked her eyes to Ingrid, beckoning her over with a small wave, and then scooted closer. She reached out slowly, putting a delicate hand on the Brigid woman's knee. "It's quite all right."

Ingrid, feeling terribly out of place, nevertheless moved up as quietly as possible. She placed the tray down by the side of the bed, kneeling on the floor behind it, giving them some distance. Part of her wanted to leave, but she figured any disruption might hurt the fragile balance in the air.

"We got you that ginger tea you like. A hot drink would be nice, don't you think?"

Petra shrugged, burying her nose in her knees again. Things stayed silent for awhile, Ingrid watching Dorothea watch Petra. Slowly the songstress began rubbing soft lines along her shin, hoping to coax out a response--none came.

"What- what's wrong, darling?" Dorothea's voice held small trembles. "This sulking isn't like you."

There were another few empty moments before Petra finally took a long breath. "I am knowing why you were angry. I... I have much regret for not understanding sooner."

Dorothea clicked her tongue softly. "Oh, don't worry about that, really. I'd be lying if I said I haven't done the same thing before--it's hardly fair. Honestly, I'm happy you've found someone-"

"I gave you this, I am remembering." Petra picked her head up, finally, to look down at the thick, red blanket draped around her. "I am thinking that is why you have strong feelings for it. I have to be admitting I feel the same.

"When I was learning the technique of haggling, at the academy, an old man was selling many different items in the market. All of them were coming from far away, even some from Brigid. He had many cloths and blankets, stacking high on the walls. Every one was full of colors and patterns, all interesting, but... this one was the most interesting. I could not be saying why. There were others that were red, others that were large. 

"This one was feeling important to me. When I touched it, and it was giving me memories of comfort, of ease, then I was understanding. It was looking of richness and delicate, but it was strong and warm--it was soft when I was thinking there was roughness. I had not been expecting to find something so wonderful in the market. In Fódlan." She pressed her face back into the same blanket. "It... reminded me of you, Dorothea."

The woman in question opened her mouth, working out what to say in real-time and failing. It held that way as the corners of her eyes began to glisten, then she shut it and tried to smile.

Petra looked back at her, trying to return it as well. Then a strangled noise came from her throat, and she picked her head and eyes up to stare at the ceiling. "I..." She tried to blink away the moisture in her eyes. "I will miss it, you know?"

Dorothea closed her eyes and nodded, a sob heaving her chest. She leaned in closer and drew her arms around Petra, holding her tightly. Her whispers shook more than she did. "Me too, more than anything in the world. I'll visit all the time, dear, I promise."

Petra nodded into her shoulder, rare tears flowing down her cheeks. "You must be, or I will be finding and tying you to Rúilacha and flying you away to Brigid myself."

"That's fine too." Dorothea's laugh was stilted and messy, but warm all the same.

Ingrid found herself blinking away the mist as she watched. As ever, she was pertinently aware of how stiff she felt, intruding on an otherwise personal moment. She should be leaving, really, so why wasn't she? She found she had no real answer, stuck to the floor. The moments passed as the two of them settled into something quieter, dimming their sobs as they held in a warm embrace. Their breaths grew deeper and more steady, eyes still held shut. Yes, she should definitely be going.

The clinking plates of her armor gave her away. She had gotten no more than one foot up from where she sat, and suddenly Dorothea was peering at her out of the corner of her eye.

"Goddess, I'm so sorry you had to sit through our blubbering." Dorothea took a deep breath in, reluctantly drawing her arms away from Petra. She reached down and picked up the clay carafe and a cup, filling it, and offered it to the knight. "Here. I topped it off, for the trouble."

"Ah, well... all right." Ingrid took it and sat back down.

Petra wiped her eyes with the blanket and shifted her position, settling in to rest her head against the songstress, legs still bunched up beneath her. "May I be having something to drink as well?"

"Of course, dear. What'll it be? We have ginger tea, or--" she lifted the carafe she held "--spiced wine. I couldn't decide which we'd need more."

"That one. It is a drink of Faerghus, is it not?" Petra's eye slid over to Ingrid, eyebrows raised.

Ingrid gave it a taste, enjoying the heavy, stark flavor. She nodded. "When it gets cold, which is all the time up here, nothing is better."

Petra took a sip and hummed appreciatively. "It is having many nice flavors. The spiciness is reminding me of a drink from Brigid, but made with cold ale, fruits, and chiles. It is much better for the warmth." She looked up from Dorothea's shoulder. "When you are visiting, It will be one of the many things I want to show you."

The Adrestian smiled at her as she filled her own cup. "I've never been much for ale, but then again, that does sound wonderfully exotic. I'd love to." Then her smile died and she sniffed. With an annoyed groan, she set down her drink and the carafe. "For the love of all that is holy-" she pressed two of her fingers along her eyelids, wiping away fresh tears that refused to dry. "If I could just not be a hot mess for more than two seconds..."

Petra snuggled up closer. "I am not minding." She looked back down, locking eyes with Ingrid. "You do not need to be sitting on the floor. I am thinking Dorothea would like another friend by her side."

"Who, me?" Ingrid shrunk back, a chill sweeping up inside of her. "The floor is fine, honestly."

"I am not thinking that is true. The cold is growing," Petra continued. "We can all be sharing the Dorothea blanket." The songstress in question gave a warm smile at that. She turned it towards Ingrid, scooting over and patting the cot beside her.

The knight's mouth went dry, but she willed it to work nonetheless as she rose to her feet. "Sure. That sounds... nice. Thank you." Double-checking every step, she made her way over and sat down beside Dorothea, her posture tight.

Petra undid the large blanket she huddled under, wrapping it around all three of them with the knight's help. There was still a few inches of space between Ingrid and Dorothea, but she didn't mind. She sipped at her wine and tried not to enjoy the smell of her perfume too much.

"I'm not going to bite you, darling," Dorothea said to her, observant as ever. "I figured you Kingdom types would be better at this, seeing as how it's cold all the time." With that, she slipped her hand around the small of Ingrid's back, pulling her flush, and left it at her hip.

"Oh!" That came out much more breathy and surprised than she wanted, so she chuckled awkwardly. "Well, ah- I grew up around Felix and Dimitri, so, you know... very affectionate people."

"Very," Dorothea agreed. She reached over Ingrid with her other hand and drew the end of the blanket across them both. "And Sylvain?"

"Yes, I have been hearing he is very open to closeness," Petra piped up.

Ingrid scoffed and rolled her eyes, forgetting herself for a moment. "I'm... sure it's easy to guess why that never happened either."

Dorothea looked at her with a playful smirk, so painfully close. Ingrid felt the warm touch of her shoulder and hips melt through the plating she wore. "Oh, I have a few ideas."

 _Goddess_. It was all she could do to offer a wan smile back, feeling herself grow very hot. Suddenly the mulled wine wasn't necessary.

Thankfully, the songstress looked back over to Petra. "You should keep this, darling." She touched the blanket with her free hand.

"Are you sure? I am knowing how important it is to you. I had been using Annette's help to, uh.... clean it, to have safety. Wind magics are very helpful."

Ingrid frowned at the stream of unpleasantries stemming from that, but Dorothea gave a bright little laugh. "Oh, I'm sure. No, if this really reminds you of me so much, I couldn't possibly keep it. It'd make me really happy to know you have it."

Petra beamed. "Thank you. It brings me happiness as well."

Dorothea let out a happy hum and leaned over, planting a small kiss on the top of Petra's head. Then she pulled back and placed her own into the crook of Ingrid's neck, closing her eyes.

The breath caught in her lungs. For a few moments she refused to move, convinced the dream would shatter if she moved. Then Dorothea let out a contented sigh and began tracing her fingers up and down her side, soft and calming. Ingrid couldn't help but steal excited glances out of the corner of her eye, lingering over the features of the face so close to hers.

"Would you like to be visiting Brigid as well, Ingrid?" Petra asked.

Ingrid snapped from her reverie and looked over. There was a slight twist at the edges of her lips, which only made the knight's cheeks burn hotter. "Oh... Well, I think that'd be nice, yes."

"Good." Petra settled back in. "I am thinking you both would be appreciating it."


End file.
